Broken Wings
by castielthebabyinatrenchcoat
Summary: When Dean turns demon yet again to save Castiel's life, he's given a fresh perspective on his relationship with the fallen angel. Love is unconditional, but how could anyone love a demon? Destiel, Deanmon, fluff and angst.
1. The dilemma

**So, I'm not exactly new to Fan Fiction, but I am new to this particular account. I'd like to use this one purely for Supernatural (my absolute obsession). This story will contain Destiel... whether or not it will include scenes of a sexual nature is entirely up to you; please review and share your opinion on the matter. I'm a shipper of both Destiel and Megstiel, before you ask :) _Broken Wings_ is set somewhere in the middle of season 10 and does change parts of the canon storyline. Please enjoy the read!**

* * *

 _The air was cool against his skin as he emerged from the stuffiness of the bar. It felt good to escape the sea of bodies that had begun to accumulate inside, even if the crowd had included a handful of hot girls… For a brief moment, he breathed in the freshness of the night – virgin air, as he liked to call it. The kind the evening had just rolled in, yet to be tossed into the endless cycle of inhalation, exhalation and so forth._

 _As he relished in the coolness of the night, he could just hear the distant muffles of a bar fight ready to begin. No doubt it was one of Crowley's thugs stirring up trouble. Sure, he could ride the high horse and pretend that such pointless rough and tumbles didn't appeal to him, but who would he be kidding? Himself, most definitely._

 _"Oi, Squirrel!" That familiar voice, coarse and tinged with the remnants of a British accent, called to him from the doorway "If you're quite done basking in the moonlight, there's a little situation in here for you to deal with."_

 _That ridiculous nickname was already wearing thin. "I'm not your pit bull, Crowley." He waved off his partner's request and turned to face the carpark, spotting his baby from a distance. There was something about the Chevy Impala that had changed; she no longer spoke out to him like she used to. Though he hated to admit it, she was starting to seem more and more like just some car with each passing day._

 _"Be that as it may, I know you're itching for some action." Crowley snarled "That mark isn't just there for show, you know."_

 _Dean glanced down at his forearm, furious with Crowley for even reminding him of its presence. The mark of Cain, perhaps the worst thing to have happened to him to date. Or, maybe it had its perks… With it came this undeniable feeling of strength and power, exceeding even Crowley's demon party tricks. It whispered to him, even now, urging him to get in there and fight bloody._

 _"Give me a minute." He'd like to tell himself that he wasn't giving in, merely finishing something that Crowley's drones had started, but he'd be lying._

 _"Aha, that's my boy."_

* * *

This sandwich had been sitting in front of him, slowly decomposing, for the past 3 days. Toasted bread, bacon, cheese, more bacon, grilled tomatoes, more bacon… awesome. But, for whatever reason, his stomach just wasn't up for it. Ever since he'd ditched the black eyes, he'd been living off slivers of beef jerky and the odd bowl of nuts (accompanied with a glass of something alcoholic). If it was up to Sam, his meals would consist purely of greens and other healthy crap. Good for the heart, apparently.

"You planning on growing old and grey with that thing?" Speak of the devil.

He shrugged "Thought bacon was bad for the cholesterol?"

"It is, but it's better than nothing. I swear one of these days you're just gonna waste away…" He furrowed his brow, a slight smile playing on his lips "Which is something I'd never thought I'd say."

Dean threw his arms in the air "I'm dieting!"

"Sure. You got any leads, yet?"

Business sure was slow. Right now, he'd give anything to chop a few vamps or even torch some wendigos. It was like all the monsters had went into hiding, which was probably a good thing, especially considering each case only triggered the goddamn mark. But the boredom was unbearable.

"Nope. No cattle mutilation, demon activity, mysterious deaths… nada."

Sam slumped into a chair opposite and sighed, a lock of hair falling across his face "What the hell's going on out there?" He paused for a moment. "We haven't even heard from Cas."

He raised his eyes at the mention of his angel, the one who'd gripped him tight and raised him from perdition. Cas' words, not his. There'd been no sign of him for weeks and a part of him was worried. That guy was part of the family now, which made him a Winchester against his own will. Yeah, Winchesters were strong, but they needed their family, as well.

"Called him?"

"Yep. And left a dozen voice messages. Wherever he is, he doesn't want to talk."

Silence replaced conversation as the elephant entered the room. It wasn't like Cas to just disappear. OK, maybe it was, but not without calling. It had been way too long. The thought of him held up in some cell, chains holding him, blood staining that stupid coat of his, made his heart ache.

"We've gotta find him, Sammy." He interrupted the hush. "Screw demons and ghouls for a moment!"

Sam nodded sternly, absently staring at a dark patch on the wall. He'd do this now and again, slip into deep trains of thought until he figured out his next move.

"Great," Dean stood up, snatching his jacket from the back of the chair and heading towards the door. "You do whatever it is that you do on that laptop of yours and I'll get going."

"Huh?"

"I'll look around for Cas; you try and dig something up… and I mean anything. Please."

Sam frowned, the creases in his forehead deepening with confusion. "What's the sense in that? We'll go look for Cas together-"

He stood up to leave, his ridiculously long body almost meeting Dean's height in mid-crouch.

"Wait, no, Dude! Come on…"

"What?!" Now he was getting defensive. He loved his brother, but he sure was sensitive.

"There's some things I've gotta take care of first. If I find him, I'll call you."

He didn't wait for any objections before turning on his heels and heading out. Truth was, if Cas was hurt, things would get real messy, real fast. Though he'd never admit it, that nerdy little angel was the best friend he'd ever had, and those come in short supply; if anyone had laid a hand on him, he doubt he'd be able to control himself, especially with the mark influencing his current behavior.

Just as he was approaching baby, his phone vibrated against his leg. He dove in immediately; phone calls usually meant a possible case nowadays. The words: "Video Message" glared at him, almost as if he were being taunted by what the message was about to reveal. He swallowed once and opened the file. A grainy image filled the screen.

"Squirrel!" Oh, great. "We need to talk… face to face. Now, I know that under normal circumstances, you'd be quite indisposed, but I think this might interest you."

The camera turned suddenly to Castiel, sitting limply in a chair bound by chains. Beneath his feet, the marks of a sigel could be seen.

"How about that – I've got your boyfriend."

His fists clenched at the sight of his angel; one eye swollen and purple, the other bloodshot. Cuts plastered his face, oozing blood that had dried black in some areas and continued to run down his skin in others. His hair was more disheveled than normal and the shadow of stubble that usually occupied his jawline had grown out, giving an edge to his look. He seemed tired, exhausted even and his signature puppy-dog look had been drained from his face. They'd tortured him well and truly.

"All it took was one call claiming we had you banged up somewhere. I figured you'd need more convincing, hence this little video. But with Castiel, all it takes is the mention of your name and he comes running. It's quite adorable, really." The camera turned back to Crowley's face "But stupid, nonetheless."

Castiel was too loyal for his own good… Not that he was opposed to the idea of a guardian angel. His mother had always promised that angels were watching over him and Cas seemed to support that notion more and more every day. Sudden anger pulsed through his veins at the thought of Crowley's minions being let loose on his buddy, tearing him to shreds, no doubt.

"I'm texting you the location. Be there within the hour or Wings here gets it nice and slow… Oh, and Squirrel? Come alone."

The footage cut out, leaving just silence.

"Damn it, Cas." Dean breathed, looking around him to check no one was watching. The whereabouts of the bunker had yet to be discovered, but he was still paranoid.

For a moment, he considered getting Sam. He had promised he would, after all. But there was something so menacing about Crowley's demand, he daren't risk Cas' safety. If anything happened to that angel, it was on him. He couldn't let that happen.

* * *

 **Sorry for the lack of Destiel fluff in this chapter! I didn't want to rush into things. So, Cas has been kidnapped by Crowley and Dean is going to run to his rescue. Oh, I wonder what this could lead to! Thank you so much for reading; faves, follows and reviews will all be equally appreciated *awkward angel hug***


	2. Angel blade

**Chapter 2 coming up! This one's nothing outstanding, I'll admit... just building the tension until we get to the good stuff (hopefully)! I hope you enjoy the read.**

* * *

This was so Crowley; a cheap and tack-tastic warehouse in the middle of nowhere, of course. He parked a good distance away, scouring the location from afar until he was confident that this was no trap. The sun was still high, but after a 3 hour drive it was getting dark out and Dean somehow knew that this wouldn't be over in time for him and Cas to miss the midnight drive home.

He tilted his head back with a sigh, enjoying the peacefulness of the Impala for a moment before stepping out into evening chill. Goddamit, if Cas had been scarred beyond repair there'd be hell to pay. At the thought of the angel broken and bruised, Dean could feel the itch of the mark intensifying beneath his sleeve. He loosened his shoulders, rubbing the tender skin and assuring himself that the raised flesh was still there on his wrist; as much as he hated the mark, it would be more than useful in the upcoming situation.

The path crunched beneath his boots, leading him directly towards the warehouse like a walkway to hell. Sure, he knew that with this _curse_ on his side, bashing a few lousy demons' brains in would be no problem. But Crowley wasn't stupid; he'd spent 6 months with Dean, black-eyed Dean for that matter. He knew too well about the mark and its ability and unless he was well prepared, he wouldn't dream of coaxing him into this ridiculous trap of his.

 _"Isn't that like trapping a hurricane in a butterfly net?"_

He could remember that conversation, back when the whole heaven and hell disaster was just getting started. Cas, still a robotic and severely obedient little angel back then, had confided in Dean, asked for his help in trapping Raphael. And he could remember his reply.

 _"No, it's harder."_

Is that what he'd become; some monster to be feared? Had the oh-so-mighty king of hell actually considered the fact that capturing Dean would be near impossible without some kind of leverage?

After that conversation, he'd taken Cas to the nearest club in the hopes of signing off his virginity to some blonde named Chastity. He should have known that he wouldn't bite, that he'd send the girl running, after some bold reassurance that her daddy issues were because of a crappy job at the post office and not her. He'd laughed harder than he had done in years. That guy, the one who was still able to smile and forget about the endless strains of the world, that was the guy he wanted to be; not this angry, tired old man whose only fight left was spurred on by the unshakable blemish residing on his wrist. He'd noticed that after 6 years, Castiel was just about the only person who could still make him smile from ear to ear and a sudden warm, fuzzy feeling lingered in his stomach at the thought of being reunited with the little nerdy dude with wings.

He was a just few yards away from the door now, his hand instantly dropping to the blade in his back pocket. It was just too quiet, as if Crowley had all the action waiting for him inside. He was gonna get a jump scare, no doubt.

"Dean?"

His body tensed; that voice was all too familiar. It sounded tired and delirious, but etched with certain relief. He recognized it immediately.

"Cas?" He turned slowly, scared that if he made any sudden movements, his angel would disappear into thin air.

But sure enough, there he was. His trench coat, stained with blood that turned the usual cotton tan material a murky brown, flapped aimlessly in a sudden surge of wind. In his eyes, Dean saw sorrow and the deepest shade of fear; the kind he could only recognize from his time in hell.

"Dean, I-"

His words were interrupted with the edge of an angel blade piercing through his chest. The world stopped for a moment; time a hideous blur of silent screams and sinking knees. He stumbled, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, eyes wide with the agonizing sensation of the blade tearing at his flesh.

"Cas!" Dean lunged forward, breaking his fall and lowering his body to the ground gently. "No, no, no, no… Cas, don't do this. Damn it! Don't do this! Cas?!"

"Oh, don't worry." _Crowley._ "All you have to do is put these on," He held up a pair of handcuffs engraved with various markings he couldn't understand. "and come with me. Then I'll help your boyfriend and you can both be on your merry way."

He didn't know if this feeling was anger, sickness or grief, but it welled up inside him until all he wanted to do was wipe away the rest of the world and hold Cas in his arms.

"I. Will. Kill. You." His words were stone and he meant them with every fibre of his being.

Crowley swatted the air leisurely and smirked "There's enough time for dramatics afterwards. Now, let's get down to business."

With one swift motion, he plunged the blade into Castiel's broken body once more, this time creating a blast of blue light that exploded from his eyes and mouth, accompanied with possibly the worst sound Dean had ever heard; the cries of his best friend being brutally murdered.

"Noooo!" His hand grasped the handle in a feeble attempt to wrestle the blade out of Crowley's grip, but it was too late.

He felt the cool metal clasp around his wrist; the handcuffs, seizing him under Crowley's control. And Cas just lay there, motionless.

"Like I said, we need to talk."

* * *

 **No, not Castiel! Oh my god... Don't worry, I have a feeling he's not really gone ;) Sorry for the short and sucky paragraph, like I said earlier, I'm just trying to develop the story before I just jump into the Destiel stuff. Please fave, follow or review! It means the world to me. Thanks for reading!**


	3. There's no denying it

**So, this chapter is slightly longer than the others. A lot of it is flashbacks, but there is some Destiel near the end. I'd just like to say thank you to anyone who's been following this story. Enjoy!**

* * *

"You killed him."

With the snap of his fingers, Crowley had relocated them to a cross roads. They were in his former territory, Dean could see that, but it was a past the king of hell had gladly abandoned.

"Yes, well… that's reversible." He put it simply.

No, it wasn't; even if the bastard _could_ bring Cas back, death would still have left its claws in the angel. Dean had faced it on too many occasions and each time, he came back a little more broken.

"I just need to talk to you, Squirrel."

"It's _Dean_ , bitch."

"It's _Crowley_ , jerk."

He refused to acknowledge the memories of witty banter the two had exchanged during his time as a demon. Sam was his bitch and he was Sam's jerk; Crowley didn't fit into the equation.

The king of hell began to circle him with slow, steady footsteps "Do you remember the feeling?" Here it goes "The relief, the absolute _liberation_ of releasing all that pent up rage inside of you?"

Dean gritted his teeth, refusing to fall under Crowley's spell.

"I saw the spark in your eyes when I stabbed your pretty-boy angel; you wanted revenge instantly. The mark was egging you on. It wants you to kill again…"

He forced his gaze onto Crowley "Can you bring him back or not?"

All that mattered now was cradling Castiel in his arms, nursing him back to health. Telling him how much he meant to him before the chance was taken from him once again.

Crowley sniggered "Someone's got it bad."

He chose to ignore the reference to his and Cas' relationship; it was none of his business.

"Can you save him?!"

"The question is can _you_ save him?" His eyes were wild "Because all that stands between you and a teary reunion with lover boy is your cooperation."

Dean's 'cooperation' most likely involved him sitting there and shutting up while Crowley reminisced. He somehow couldn't see himself being released without making some kind of deal, however.

"Fine." The word tasted bitter on his tongue as he spat it out.

* * *

 _The feeling of bone breaking against his fist was something of a high for Dean. This poor bastard, whoever he was, had no chance against him as he lifted his body with one hand and slammed him against the bar. A muffled groan escaped his lips, but the swollen flesh around his mouth made it hardly audible._

 _"P-Please!" He cried. Clearly each word was agonizing, but desperation clouded the pain._

 _Usually, Dean would drain each bit of information nice and slowly, and with less hands-on interaction. A month ago, this guy would be tied to a chair, the odd bruise and scrape here and there, but Dean would have Sammy beside him. Good cop and bad cop, as they liked to refer to themselves._

 _"Where," One punch square in the face "is," Head yanked back with incredible force "the," Eyes forced to meet his stony gaze "money?" Blade plunged into his knee cap._

 _The screams of pain made him chuckle; he pulled back, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow and glancing at the array of broken glass and leaking booze on the shelf. In their jagged reflections, Dean's eyes were black as night._

 _"This guy, R-Ron I think, h-he took it… last week, came in here all guns blazing. I had to! I-I have a family to think about."_

 _Panic flooded his face at the mention of family; it was a slip up he immediately acknowledged. Now, if he couldn't satisfy Dean's hunger, his wife and two children would be next on his list._

 _He took advantage of this new-found fear and leaned in close, his breath mingling with his victim's "Where is he?"_

 _Four hours later, his hands are bloody and there's a mess on the floor he chooses to ignore._

 _The car park was still jam-packed like when he arrived, but most of the drivers were slumped over their steering wheels. After a rather tedious procedure of removing the bartender's organs precisely until he keeled over, Dean's appetite still hadn't been fulfilled. That's why he always kept hostages in such situations; they made great snacks._

 _"What the bloody hell is this?" Crowley suddenly appeared before him, hands raised in the air casually as if he'd just stumbled upon Dean crashed out on his sofa drunk._

 _Dean shrugged "The guy didn't know, but he_ did _give me a name; Ron, or something."_

 _"And, what? The rest were just casualties?"_

 _"That'll do."_

 _Keeping Dean's 'needs' under control was like training a hyperactive puppy; there was something so endearing about watching him succumb to the demands of the mark, he couldn't stay mad at him for long._

 _"Just call me next time, alright?"_

 _"Yeah, OK,_ dad _." And just like a puppy, Crowley's soft spot only encouraged the bad behavior. The king of hell was his bitch, whether he realized it or not, and that luxury gave him free reign to do whatever the fuck he wanted to._

 _"So, we find this 'Ron' and make the pig squeal. Right?" The possibility of more torture fanned the flame in his chest._

 _Crowley sucked in his cheeks absentmindedly "How about we get pissed, first?"_

 _Either option sounded fine to Dean, whose only interests nowadays revolved around blood and booze._

* * *

 _What the dynamic duo referred to as 'home' was one room above a bar with two beds and a mini fridge. After introducing Dean to the life of being a demon, Crowley had been determined to show his new pal the simple life of getting drunk, hooking up and slicing up some humans now and again._

 _"Want a cold one?" He asked, offering a selection of various beers to Dean._

 _The former hunter scoffed "Alcohol's alcohol, dude."_

 _Crowley rolled his eyes, tossing a random choice into Dean's open hands. He may have been able to change his perspective on the dark side, but he still couldn't convince him to appreciate the finer things in life; he'd stick to his whiskey._

 _It wasn't long before the two of them were absolutely trashed and giggling like a couple of school girls. Dean gulped back the remainder of his bottle and brought a hand over his face, still chuckling from whatever dry comment Crowley had just made._

 _"Dude, dude… seriously, dude. I fucking love you right now. C-Come here!" He draped his arms over the shorter man and squeezed his butt jokingly._

 _Crowley recoiled "Oi!" He shoved a rather wasted Dean away, but humor played on his face._

 _Nights often ended like this recently, with both of them chatting away as they became more and more intoxicated. The next day would have been torture if they were mere mortals, but hangovers were simply bad memories for Dean now. Being a demon kind of ruled._

 _"So," Crowley licked his lips and tried to focus his eyes on Dean (though the whiskey made it almost impossible to focus on anything right now) "what d'ya miss about it?"_

 _It had been less than a month since Dean had awoken with black eyes; despite his undeniable change in character, there were still aspects of humanity that he longed for. Certain things didn't disappear overnight, Crowley had reassured him. That first night when he'd left a note for Sammy, asking him not to look for him, he'd genuinely had his best interests in mind. Even now, after weeks of being a bloodthirsty monster, he still hoped that his brother was safe._

 _"Ah, well…" He wanted to be careful how deep he went, but the beer seemed to soften the paranoia slightly "I still kinda miss that giant of mine." He chuckled, getting up for yet another bottle._

 _Crowley nodded "Yeah, yeah. I get that," He didn't seem entirely satisfied with Dean's answer and leaned in for more "I mean besides the obvious."_

 _What did he want from him? The king of hell going all 'Dr Phil' on him was nauseating and he had the right mind to punch him in the face._

 _"I dunno? My car, I suppose…" He slurred his words to emphasize the fact that he was completely shitfaced and whatever crap he came out with wasn't necessarily true._

 _Crowley furrowed his brow "Your car's parked out there."_

 _"Yeah, I know that." Seriously, he wasn't brain-dead "But I miss the chemistry!"_

 _His new therapist couldn't help but choke on his drink and let out a chuckle "So, you were in a committed relationship with your wheels?"_

 _Dean ignored the sarcasm "She was my baby; my, uh… my dad gave her to me when I started hunting alone." He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, not sure if this was getting too emotional._

 _Crowley's sombre expression and focused gaze urged him to continue, assuring him that they weren't quite past the line yet._

 _"Treated her like a real woman," He smiled "like she was the most precious thing in the world. My dad, he never really put his trust in anyone, so I was always trying to gain his approval…" If he was rambling, he couldn't care less "So this_ car _was like a symbol of his trust. I'd finally done enough to make him believe in me."_

 _He sensed the atmosphere shifting and quickly decided to lighten the mood "And then I go and drive it into a wall."_

 _Crowley laughed, spilling some whiskey onto his suit carelessly "What a son you are."_

 _The comment almost stung, but thankfully all emotions were numbed by a combination of alcohol and demonism. He shrugged it off._

 _"I dunno, the spark's just gone. I don't see my baby in the same way anymore."_

 _He expected a snigger from Crowley, but found that he was staring at the floor despondently._

 _"What about you?"_

 _The question didn't seem to faze him "I'm past all that touchy-feely stuff. I've been in this line of work too long."_

 _Dean could almost hear the sadness in his words, but decided not to comment on it._

 _His silence allowed Crowley to continue with the 24 questions "How about the angel?"_

 _That, he didn't expect. Castiel had a history with both of them; he'd been conspiring with Crowley back when he was desperate, but soon turned on him afterwards. Their relationship was quite openly unpleasant._

 _"Him? Geez… I dunno." He_ did _know, however. That same distance ache he felt when thinking about his brother was always aroused when Castiel came up in the conversation. Luckily, that was rare "We were buds, I guess. But I needed him more for protection; for his powers. Now I'm like this, I don't really need him anymore. He's useless to me now."_

 _Even as a drunken demon, he found it difficult to tell such a blatant lie when both longing and guilt churned in his stomach._

 _Crowley seemed to pick up on his deceit "What happens in this grotty bedsit, stays in this grotty bedsit." His compassion was slightly unnerving._

 _"I, uh…" What the fuck was he supposed to say? This was the king of hell and_ he _was a rookie demon. Any mention of his twisted desires would change everything "Yeah, I guess I miss him now and again." Casual enough not to arouse suspicion, he hoped._

 _He was wrong._

 _"Bullshit." Crowley slammed his glass onto the table, shattering it into a million tiny shards "You miss him, not sometimes, but all the time." With a click of his fingers, the glass was restored and topped up with fresh whiskey "You have a soft spot for him."_

 _Dean shivered. What was happening here?_

 _"You know what he said to me once?" He gulped back a generous amount of alcohol "When we were 'working together', he asked me if what we were doing would protect_ you. _Not Sam, not the friggin' human race…_ you. _"_

 _A familiar warmth nestled in his stomach; something he hadn't felt since being turned._

 _But it wasn't enough for Crowley "When I thought to myself, 'self, wouldn't that angel the Winchesters insist on keeping by their sides be useful for your deliciously evil plot?' I decided to go and pay him a little visit." He stopped to take another sip, knowing too well that he was teasing his partner in crime "And when I found him, guess what he was doing?"_

 _Dean rolled his head back with a sigh "I dunno, Crowley. What_ was _he doing?"_

 _Pause for effect._

 _"He was watching over you."_

 _A flash of lightening outside illuminated the room as if on cue "Excuse me?"_

 _Crowley let the smirk on his face diffuse into utter seriousness "Watching you. He wanted to talk to you so badly, but he was scared you wouldn't understand… so he went 'invisible girl' and decided to watch some reality Dean-TV. You were raking the leaves when I arrived."_

 _Dean his licked his lips and let out a shaky laugh "Ha, 'cause that's not creepy in the slightest."_

 _He focused his attention on the beer in his hand, desperately wishing that he could swamp out any and all emotions and go full demon there and then. Crowley eyed him suspiciously from afar._

 _"Love is a dangerous game, Squirrel. Especially when you're playing it with a bloody angel of the lord." His words were accusing, but soft still._

 _Dean simply smiled and downed the entire bottle briskly "Good thing I'm not playing, then."_

* * *

This was the first time he'd laid eyes on Crowley since his demon days; before their little adventure, he'd admit that there was something likeable about the former cross-roads demon. But now, after dragging him across the country with black eyes and forcing him to do the unthinkable, not to mention slaughtering his best friend right in front of him, he felt nothing but hatred towards the smug little man in the suit.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, Squirrel." He teased "My heart bleeds."

"You wanted to talk? Then talk."

His expression darkened "I am. In fact, I'm here to offer you a onetime deal…"

"Oh?" Dean couldn't suppress his sarcasm "And let me guess, this _deal_ involves me running back to you, the Thelma to your Louise, in exchange for Castiel's life?"

Crowley chortled "Something along those lines."

He took the silence as an opportunity to assess their surroundings; it wasn't a cross-roads he'd visited before. From what he could see, they were in the middle of nowhere, spare the beaten down gas station a few yards off that seemed like it had been abandoned years ago. Wherever they were, it appeared that they'd shifted past a few time zones as the sky was pitch black and the air still, like the world was asleep.

The peace was broken with Crowley's words "So, are you willing to comply?"

His choice was obvious; return to being a demon in order to save Cas? It was a done deal from the get-go, in his opinion.

"I have one condition." He couldn't care less if he was over stepping his mark. He had no leverage to assume that he was in the position to lay down the law, but he somehow knew that Crowley would agree.

"Go on."

"I want to say goodbye."

Crowley tilted his head slightly "To Sam?"

Dean's eyes were stony as he glared at the king of hell; he knew what he meant, but he was determined to wring it out of him "To Cas. I want to make sure he's alive and I want to explain why I'm doing this."

His heart was thudding against his ribcage, threatening to burst on the spot.

Crowley simply sighed "You get 5 minutes."

With that, their current surroundings melted away until it was just Dean and Cas, his body still lifeless on the floor.

"Cas?" He hissed, collapsing to the ground and cupping the angel's face in his rough hands "Wake up, buddy."

He surfaced with a sudden, desperate breath, like someone breaking the water after being under too long "D-Dean?!" His voice was deeper than usual and etched with fear.

"I got ya, buddy…" He lifted Cas to his feet effortlessly, leaning him against the warehouse and supporting him with one hand "You OK?"

"Dean-"

"I had my doubts, you know. I've never heard of anyone resurrecting an angel except the big guy, but… you look great!" He struggled to make that comment sound less tender.

"Dean, listen." Castiel's eyes darkened, but he could see the emotion brewing behind them "You _can't_ make the deal."

Dean shifted from one foot to the other awkwardly; there was something about the idea of Castiel knowing he was willing to sacrifice himself for him that was unnerving "I-I… how do you-"

"Crowley told me his plan before he… did what he did." It was obvious the torture had been excruciating from the way his expression faltered for a moment.

"What, and you just think I'm gonna let you die? Screw that!" He was angry now, furious in fact. Why the hell did Castiel value Dean's life more than his own?

" _Dean_ -"

"No, alright?!" He only had 5 goddamn minutes and he sure as heck wasn't going to spend them arguing "Listen up. I will _not_ let that _monster_ take you from me, OK?!"

That must have sounded more affectionate than he intended because Castiel's stubborn glower faded into something of pure shock. His lips parted slightly, as if he had something to say, but no words came tumbling out.

"I can't and I _won't_ lose you." Screw it – now was good a time as any to just come clean.

The only sounds to be heard were the rustling of leaves and the distant call of a bird. Around them, the world seemed tranquil; it was almost insulting.

"Dean… why are you doing this?" His steely blue eyes were bright with emotion, his lips quivering.

Dean chuckled, pressing their foreheads together and breathing in the scent of Cas' stupid trench coat. They stayed like that for a moment, eyes closed with Cas' hands gripping the sleeves of Dean's jacket. Their breathes were low, but frequent.

"Could you be more of an idiot?" Dean spoke quietly, a mixture of humor and grief hidden behind his words as he tightened his grip around the angel's face.

His fingers ran across the back of Castiel's head, gently undoing any knots he came across in the angel's tousled hair. Cas drew in a sharp intake of breath and pulled back suddenly, his eyes full of frustration once more.

"So it's OK for you to die for me, but it's not OK for me to die for you?" His voice was shaky, but determined "I choose _you_ , not me! Dean, please don't do this…"

He shook his head lightly "It's done, Cas." At that, he tried on a smile "It's not as if I'll be dead, anyway. I'll just be a demon."

Four minutes had passed.

"You won't be able to recover this time, Dean. It will be too strong."

"Ha, thanks for the support, Cas!" He forced a laugh.

"I didn't mean to-"

"I know."

Their time was almost up; he could feel it. The urge to close the gap between their lips was suddenly all-too strong, but he somehow resisted it… he'd never had these feelings about a guy. He'd never had these feelings, full stop. Instead, he planted a hesitant kiss on the angel's forehead, noticing how his body tensed beside him as he did.

Castiel's voice was hoarse "Why did you do that?"

He lowered his eyes shamefully "You know why."

Dean pulled away, swinging his body around to hide the blush burning his face. He shouldn't want to do this, not with another man, not after all of the women he'd been with…

"Times up."

Both men turned to face the king of hell who was leaning against the warehouse casually, holding a pair of cuffs in his hands "Don't even try anything stupid. All it takes it one snap and Wings is 6 foot under."

Dean was suddenly whipped away from Castiel, who looked rabid and ready to pounce "Crowley..."

As Crowley whisked them away with a twinkle of his fingers, Dean could hear the desperate calls of Castiel crying out to them.

"I _will_ find you, Dean!"

* * *

 **There... the Destiel fluff is finally starting! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please fave, follow and/or review! Thank you.**


	4. Can't shake me off

**So, I'm kinda returning to this story after _way_ too long... Most of my original readers have probably lost interest, so for that I'm sorry. Hopefully, I'll be updating this weekly alongside _Michael's Angels_ and the odd one-shot etc. I hope you enjoy this new chapter!**

* * *

Castiel had to check the address twice before venturing towards the white picket fence; after 4 months of no leads on Crowley's location, he and Sam had _finally_ gotten something. Just two weeks earlier, a man of Dean's description had been spotted entering a gas station 3 miles away, leaving four bloody bodies in his wake. The interesting thing was apparently, according to a witness, the man appeared to have black eyes…

The angel held back, still uncertain, and fumbled in his pockets for the mobile phone he secretly enjoyed using "Sam?" He surely wasn't in the right place.

"Cas?" On the other end of the line, Sam sounded groggy and, simply put, _beat_.

"I'm here. A local woman kindly pointed me in the right direction, but I fear I may have been led astray…" He glanced back at the picturesque house; it looked like it had been plucked right from a catalogue.

Sam groaned, the sound of sheets and footsteps muffled in the background "What, why?"

"Well," Castiel began "it's too _nice_."

"Not the usual abandoned farmhouse, huh?"

"No. Definitely not."

There was a pause; Sam was probably changing into some clothes. Ever since Dean's disappearance, he'd been a little out of sorts, getting up late, refusing hunts, only calling when it was of the upmost importance… Cas, on the hand, was taking the opposite approach. He couldn't recall the last time he rested properly and he didn't care. Until Dean was back safe, he didn't care about _anything_.

"This source of yours, is it reliable?"

There was a rustle before Sam's reply "Yeah, well… of course. An old hunting buddy of Bobby's interviewed the witness. Apparently, after seeing this black eyed man coming out of the gas station, they called the police and followed the guy to that address. They didn't wanna say anything to the cops cos they didn't think they'd believe them. Why, what is it?"

Castiel sighed "It's a house. And it's quaint."

The bricks were a pastel shade of yellow, with a small collection of a slightly darker greeny-grey colour bundled at either end of the building, forming two hearts. A couple of square windows, each placed atop the hearts, were complete with glistening, white window sills and thin, lilac curtains that billowed gently in the summer breeze. The door, a pale cream to complement the colours of both the hearts and window sills, was placed directly in the centre of the building and sported a charming little doorbell in the shape of a cupcake. Castiel felt dirty just looking at it.

"Maybe he's being careful?" Sam suggested "You know, like a cover up. We're always saying how predictable Crowley's hold ups are… but, Dean knows the drill."

Castiel was willing to hold onto anything at this point in time "Okay. I'll take a look."

"Call me back when you're done."

He felt a small pang of frustration at the fact that Sam wasn't here beside him; it was his brother they were looking for, after all. Sure, they'd both decided that he wasn't exactly himself at the moment and perhaps he'd be more suited as the 'stay at home' kind of guy, whilst Castiel did all the heavy lifting, but still. This was the closest they'd got to finding Dean in 4 months and he strongly believed that Sam should be the first face he saw.

There was a small, silver button at the centre of the cupcake, scarcely the size of Castiel's little fingernail. He couldn't help but recoil at the sound of three voices giggling their way through some sort of greeting song; this family had actually pre-recorded their own doorbell.

 _"Welcome to our loving home!"_

He glanced over his shoulder awkwardly and cleared his throat; he'd love to see Dean's reaction to this monstrosity.

After a few moments, he could hear the titter-tatter of shoes heading towards the door and was soon greeted by a middle aged woman "Hey, there!"

She appeared to be in her mid-forties with straw blonde hair pulled back into a loose bun that fell about her shoulders artistically. All stray hairs seemed to purposely frame her face - as opposed to being merely accidental - and in her pale hands, she was wringing a tea cloth. When she noticed Castiel scrutinizing the flour dabbed about her face and clinging to her hair, she gave an exasperated sigh.

"Baking! Who knew it could be such a hullaballoo!" She then offered him a smile and extended her hand.

He wasn't quite sure what that word meant, but he assumed that she was being witty and returned the smile. But not his hand.

"I'm looking for this man, have you seen him?" He flashed a photo of Dean, now crumpled after months of residing in his back pocket.

The woman tilted her head "Hmmm…"

"His name is Dean Winchester."

"I don't think so, sorry!" She went to close the door, but was stopped by Castiel's foot.

He furrowed his brow, searching her face for signs of deceit "He's in a lot of trouble."

A lock of hair had fallen from her bun and, instead of framing her face, clung to her bottom lip. Her eyes were wide "I-I don't know who that man is."

"I think you're lying."

With that, he pressed two fingers against her forehead and closed his eyes; he sifted through her mind effortlessly, past memories of smiling children, birthday cakes and school runs, until he came across an image that made him gasp. A man's hands were grasping at her waist and trailing up her thighs, lips smacking her jawline and breath tingling the back of her neck. She turned her head to face her lover; a man with light brown hair and freckled skin. _Dean_.

He forgot how to talk for a moment. Even though he knew this man wasn't really Dean, just a twisted version of him, he still couldn't shake the intense feeling of betrayal and humiliation.

"W-What was _that_?!" The woman stumbled against the door, rubbing her head frantically.

The angel didn't have time to go into details "You slept with this man two weeks ago."

Her face flushed "I-I… how did you? Oh my goodness. Please don't tell me husband!"

"I have no interest in your husband. _Where_ is this man?"

She thought for a moment, desperately wringing the tea cloth between her hands "I-I'm not sure. We met a bar, just down the street." Her face fell "He was so young and charming… and I was so _drunk_ …"

Castiel sighed "Did he tell you where he was staying?"

"No… he just said he was passing through. I gave him my address," He could see that she was now mentally scolding herself for making such a silly mistake "but he said he had something to do first. Then he turned up at my house about 40 minutes later."

"Was he wearing a change of clothing?" He asked, picturing the mess four bodies must have made.

She shrugged helplessly "Just a different shirt. I-I presumed that's what he went home to do."

"Did he leave any contact information?"

"Well…" She pursed her lips into a thin line "He did send me a, um… rather _inappropriate_ text the following morning…"

Castiel perked up at the possible lead "Can you show me, ma'am?"

Her face flushed an embarrassing shade of red as she continued to strangle the tea cloth in her hands "Oh, gosh no, I… I wouldn't risk my husband finding out! I-I deleted the text shortly afterwards."

Great. So, perhaps there _wasn't_ a light at the end of this tunnel… maybe they were still a long way off finding Dean. He knew that the longer they were delayed, the worst state he'd be in. The situation seemed hopeless and the thought of having to deliver the bad news to Sam yet again and be forced to watch as the younger Winchester continued his downward spiral made him feel sick. And angels _didn't_ get queasy often.

"But," The woman brought him out of his thoughts suddenly "I did happen to jot the number down, just in case he, uh… f-forgot something…"

Castiel wasn't an expert of reading between the lines, especially when it concerned humans, but even _he_ could understand that her shameful expression and beaming cheeks suggested that she'd kept the number for other reasons - just in case.

He accepted the proffered scrap of paper eagerly and thanked the woman for her time before fleeing to somewhere away from the eyes and ears of nosey passer-byers. For a moment, he considered updating Sam and attempting to shed some light on his friend's dismal behaviour, but then he considered the possibility of the number being a bust and decided that it was best not to raise false hopes.

He'd dialled the number before his mind had had time to adjust and soon he was panicking with the device pressed to his ear, wondering how he could wring his location from Dean. Surely he wouldn't agree to meet up with him, after all.

His anxieties were stilled by a familiar tune blasting from a nearby alleyway. Although he couldn't name the song for the life of him, he instantly recognised it as being a personal favourite of Dean's- one he'd always turn the volume up for in the Impala. What followed the music was even more startling; a gruff voice, muffled by the distance between them, silencing the tune. It was a voice he'd never forget, a voice he'd recognise a mile off. Dean was here; perhaps just around the corner with no idea that Castiel was so close.

"Hey, this is Dean Winchester speaking… What can my sexy-self do for you today?"

An awkward silence commenced.

"Uh, you there? Hey, is this the hot mom from that club a couple weeks back…? Hey-"

"Hello, Dean."

He expected a gasp of surprise, maybe an emotional uttering of his name in return, but instead, Dean scoffed. He _scoffed_ , and then groaned and then laughed bitterly to himself.

"Seriously? Frickin' Castiel? Great…"

It felt like someone had physically removed his heart (if it was fair to call Jimmy Novak's heart his own) and squeezed carelessly. Someone was kicking at his emotions, oblivious to the blinding agony it produced, just watching him writhe about helplessly drowning in his own pain.

His voice was broken as he spoke "Dean, I-"

"How'd you get this number? Did that whore give it to you? God, I'm gonna slit that bitch's throat…"

Castiel could scarcely believe that even a _smidgen_ of this monster was his trusty and courageous friend, Dean Winchester. Sure, Dean was ever the ladies' man - much to his dismay - but he'd never threatened to purposely harm one of them. Despite what some might think, he _did_ treat women with the upmost respect- much like a gentleman. Thisdemon possessing his kind-natured soul was only trying to warp Castiel's image of Dean and thus destroy his loyalty. But he wouldn't give up that easily.

"You will not bring any harm to that woman, Dean. I located your contact information from a different source…" He lied smoothly, hoping the deceit would go unnoticed.

He suddenly remembered to lower his voice so that Dean wouldn't figure out his hiding place. He couldn't risk him hearing him and fleeing- not when he'd got so far, not when there was a chance that he could reunite the Winchester brothers and actually see Sam _smile_ again.

"Yeah, right." Thankfully, he mustn't of cared too much and decided to change the subject "So, how've you been, Castiel? You and Sam had mad, emotional, 'I feel your pain' sex, yet?"

He flushed what he could only imagine was an angry shade of red "How can you talk about your _brother_ and your _friend_ like that?!" Disappointment coursed through his veins "I thought you said we were like family? Then if that's the case, you should be able to _fight_ this, Dean –"

"Ha!" Dean scoffed " _Family_ , Castiel? _Family_? You seriously gonna play that card with me? A frickin' _demon_ who couldn't give two shits about you?"

No, this wasn't right… This wasn't _Dean_. His Dean would grin – he'd _hear_ the smile in his voice – and call him Cas and buddy and brother and – And what? What exactly was he to Dean? If he was like a brother, then surely their relationship was platonic and nothing that he felt for the hunter was returned. A brother pats your shoulder and hands you a beer, calls you names but doesn't really mean it and makes you laugh at stupid jokes. What does Castiel do for Dean? He hunts and rebels and gives up armies and fights and protects and watches over and stares and hopes and _longs_ and… well, what's the point in denying it? Falling for the Winchester – a man he could never possibly have – was inevitable from the start. The very moment he laid a hand on Dean in hell, he was indeed, as Hester had put it, _lost_.

"This isn't you, Dean." He choked.

"No, you're right… This isn't the _old_ me. Now I'm – I'm frickin' _powerful._ "

Castiel edged his way across the wall, following the muffled voice echoing not far from his hearing. The ground was damp and cold (not that that could bother him much) as he turned a corner, stopping dead in his tracks because _there he was_. Dean Winchester – just as he'd remembered him – leaning against a battered bus stop with the phone pressed to his ear.

"You listen to me, alright?" His voice was now clear as day from where Castiel stood "You give up on the search party, or I'm gonna find you and Sam and _rip your fucking_ lungs _out_!"

The line went dead.

And Dean was on the move.

Adrenaline coursed through Castiel's veins as he slipped the phone into his pocket and sidled down the alley way, making sure not to stumble across the crushed cans and beer bottles littering the floor. All he had to do was keep quiet and follow Dean wherever he went; hopefully, he'd find where his friend had been hiding all these months.

Dean pulled the collar of his jacket up close around his face to shield his cheeks from the cold, shoulders hunched from where Castiel could see his retreating silhouette fading into the shadows up ahead. He'd have to keep up if he didn't want to lose him again, which would involve running and possibly blowing his cover. It was times like this that he really missed his wings; if he were still a _real_ angel, he could simply poof here and there and keep track of Dean easily. Of course, the enochian he'd carved into the hunter's ribs would prevent him from locating him entirely. Sometimes he wonders if that wasn't his _best_ idea…

He stalled, hands falling limply to his sides.

 _Dean was gone._

Castiel turned around frantically, eyes darting from left to right and heart pounding dangerously in his chest. The hairs on the back of his neck were raised – a human reaction to fear he still found quite remarkable – whilst his fists were clenched in frustration. All he'd had to do was _follow_ Dean and bring him back to the bunker! He'd been one simple task away from getting his best friend back, from seeing Sam smile again, to making things _normal_ for once. But he'd screwed it up. Now he'd never get to finish his conversation with Dean and figure out what _exactly_ he'd meant by those words.

 _You know why_.

No, he really _didn't_ understand. Why would Dean sacrifice himself for Castiel? He'd certainly lost the privilege of being called a _Winchester_ ,let alone a _brother_. But still, he'd pressed their foreheads together, raked his fingers through the angel's hair, _touched those lips to his forehead_ … Surely that meant something, right? Well, he'd never find out –

He was suddenly thrown against a wall with impressive force, the impact creating a sickening crunch that prickled pain through Castiel's spine. The world was blotted with dark spots that clouded his vision, obscuring the figure approaching him. The stranger's shadow was square-shouldered, bow-legged, the glint of a blade dangling from his fingers…

"Dean?" He managed to croak out.

"Stupid fuckin' angels," Dean muttered "Just can't keep their beaks out, can they?"

"Dean –"

A hand shoved him hard, pinning him back against the cold bricks "Why you following me, Castiel?"

"Cas…" His voice was soft, barely audible around the blood oozing from his lips.

"What did you say?"

"My name is _Cas_ ," He cried "You call me _Cas_."

Dean chuckled bitterly "Really? _Really?_ Oh, that… that's sweet. But ya see, _I_ don't know any _Cas_." He dug the heel of his foot sharply into Castiel's abdomen "All I see now is a spineless, pathetic, _lost_ little angel reaching out for daddy but fallin' flat on his face."

Castiel groaned against the foot pressed to his stomach.

"The big guy's left the building and ya brothers' think you're a piece of crap, so that leaves you with the lumberjack and yours truly…" He grinned "But, sorry! I'm outta business too, now. You're gonna have to find a new toy boy to mess around with."

"We're family, Dean!" Castiel wheezed "Do you hear what you're saying?!"

His body was hauled up from the ground and slammed against the wall once again, his head now hanging limply – chin touching his chest and dead blue eyes pleading with Dean's black ones.

"Never say that to me again!" Dean growled "I have no fuckin' family, ya hear?!"

"Yes, you do…" The words now rattled painfully in his chest "Like it or not, you can't get rid of me. _Or_ Sam. We love you, Dean."

This wasn't the way he'd pictured first uttering those words, but beggars can't be choosers.

"Ha, _screw you_ , angel!"

"You have to believe me, Dean. You are _strong_ – stronger than the mark, stronger than you give yourself credit. You can fight this –"

His shoulder blades collided with the wall again, more pain shooting through his bones " _Shut the fuck up_!"

"Just listen –"

"You don't love me! _No one_ loves me!" Dean spat, rage and agony warring on his face "How could anyone love this?!"

Castiel clutched the sleeve of Dean's jacket desperately "Because love is unconditional!" He gasped "You could be the devil himself and I would _still_ love you, Dean Winchester."

Dean released his grip and he fell to ground, coughing and wheezing into his the back of his hand. Pain shrouded his body like a blanket – suffocating and choking every inch of his being.

"You say that shit to me _one more time_ …" Dean squeaked; his eyes were now bright with that familiar, forest green Castiel often found himself pining for "And I'll… I'll –"

"I won't say it," Castiel sat up as far as he could without being overwhelmed with agony "But that doesn't mean I won't still _feel_ it."

" _Shut. Up._ "

"No!"

"I'm warning you, Castiel…"

"Do what you want!" He challenged "Without you, I'm already dead inside!"

Dean's face was suddenly drained of colour, sweat beading his forehead and arms shaking violently.

"Dean?"

The hunter's knees buckled and he came crashing to the ground. The blade clattered on the concrete beside him, handle pointing in Castiel's direction like an invitation – _a way out_. But he wouldn't, of course. He just fumbled with the pockets of his trenchcoat and fished out the phone, dialling as deftly as his swollen fingers would allow.

"Cas?" The voice that picked up was groggy and thick with presumably alcohol; it hadn't been long since their last conversation and already Sam was drunk. But that didn't matter now because he could _finally_ bring home his brother. He could make things right.

"I've found him," He smiled against the pain "I've found Dean."

* * *

 **Cliffhanger! I'm so cruel. I wonder what Dean will say when he regains consciousness and finds himself back in the bunker... Plus, we'll finally see Sammy in the next chapter! Yay for Team Free Will! All faves and follows are very much appreciated, but _reviews_ make me smile and encourage me to write more. So, if you have the time to leave a little feedback, I'll be sure to give you a shout-out in the next chapter. Thanks guys! :)**


	5. Dungeon

**_Thanks to guitardee for reviewing the last chapter! You may be the only one still reading this XD_**

 **Not much to say about this chapter; just please enjoy a bit of Deanmon sass! (And flirting... don't forget the flirting...)**

* * *

He knew where he was without having to open his eyes; the familiar sensation of cuffs digging into his wrists and the cold, hard chair beneath his ass. This was the bunker. No, scrap that. This was the bunker's _dungeon_.

His first memories of being a demon, back when it was based purely on survival – his _only_ way out after being murdered by Metatron – were foggy, but still fairly distinct in areas. He could remember being hauled into this room by Castiel; the angel's power had surpassed his own for a brief moment. He'd been weak, _defenceless_. And now, for some reason, he was back.

"Hey!" He called out into the darkness, his voice hoarse "Let me out you sonofabitch!"

Silence greeted his demand – cold and stony silence. It was fucking _infuriating_. The least they could do was explain what the hell was going on! Last thing he remembered was talking to Castiel; he'd had him pinned against the wall and he was most _definitely_ on top of the situation, thank you very much. But then the goddamn angel had started spurting some sappy-dappy crap about _family_ and _love_ and he'd freakin' _crumbled_.

What was wrong with him, for Christ's sake?!

He thought that one of the perks of this whole _demon thing_ was letting go of everything – a lack of feeling, of emotion. Then what was going on in this head of his? Castiel hadn't given up on him and somehow that hurt like hell!

Nah, nah… he was fine. This would all blow over and he'd be back to punching face and fucking girls in no time. All he had to do was come up with a smart-ass plan before his ex-brother starting pumping him with human blood. There was _no way_ he was going back to the sad, pathetic existence that is humanity. Nope, not again!

The front wall suddenly creaked open, separating into two sides that folded out and let in the light from the bunker. Against the welcoming glow stood a dark shadow too tall to be Castiel; he entered the dungeon with slow, careful steps before leaning against the wall and cocking his head.

"Hey, Dean."

It was a voice he'd struggle to forget, no matter _how_ much demon mojo was coursing through his blackened veins at that moment in time.

His head lolled, shoulders popping with a satisfying stretch as he adjusted to the new light "Howdy, Sam. How's life?"

Sam's jaw tightened – eyes beady and resolute "Don't play that game with me, Dean. I know you're in there."

"Ah, I wouldn't be too sure of that, Sammy… Castiel's already given that a swing."

"And look where you are," Sam straightened against the wall "You collapsed. Cas tried to talk to you and then you just… _fell_. Don't you find that suspicious?"

He smothered his frown with a cough; so _that's_ what had happened. His emotional beating from the angel had – what? Made him _faint_? That's kind of gay, isn't it?

"Pfft… so _that's_ what he told you, ay?" He chuckled weakly "Quite the imagination, that one."

Sam looked away, fists clenching by his sides "Try and deny it all you want, Dean. But we both know what happened."

Dean tried to scoff, to come up with some witty remark to push Sam's buttons, but he just couldn't. What came out was a strangled noise of frustration and he slammed his hands against the desk to emphasise his rage.

"You better fuckin' let me out of here, Sam. I _will_ kill you, don't think I won't!"

Sam cast him a sideways glance and cleared his throat "Cas, he uh… he wants to see you. Play nice."

And then he was gone, taking his annoying girly locks and plaid shirt with him. He sucked; he fuckin' _sucked_. What a lanky piece of shit! What the fuck did he know? Castiel didn't have some kind of _hold_ over him, or anything. Right? Goddamn…

A new figure stepped into the dungeon; this one was shorter, drowning in a tan trenchcoat that made him seem smaller against its size. Dark, ruffled hair stood at all ends on his head, giving him this vulnerable, kicked-puppy kind of look which, accompanied by those freakin' blue orbs, made him seem both parts innocent and wary of Dean's presence.

"Hello, Dean." He spoke plainly, no emotion seeping into his words.

"Castiel."

The angel came closer – just by a few steps – and glanced over his shoulder "What did Sam say to you?"

"Nothing much," He lied smoothly "Just that you had something to say. So, out with it."

Castiel fixed his eyes on Dean's once again, lips pressed into a thin line "You're worse this time."

Yeah, he was. He could remember that first taste of demon-life just over a year ago, now. He'd wanted to kill and maim and _torture_ , but he'd still had his weak spots. That's why he'd left the note; he didn't want to have to hurt his brother or Castiel, no matter how bad things got. But this time? It was different. He wouldn't mind reaching over the table and slamming the angel's face into the ground, just to see the blood and tears mingle on his skin.

"Maybe."

"What I said, back in the alley…" Castiel lowered his voice "It affected you, more severely than I'd first imagined it would."

He gritted his teeth, not wanting a goddamn angel to have one over on him "Don't flatter yourself. I didn't fall cos of _you_."

"Then why?"

Fuck this! Fuck _him_! He didn't have to answer any of these questions. One thing he was certain of – they wouldn't lay a hand on him, not if they thought there was the slightest chance of getting the old Dean back.

"Bite me."

Castiel pursed his lips, nodding curtly and turning to leave "I understand," He sighed "I'll try again tomorrow."

"You're wasting your time, angel!" Dean hollered after his retreating figure "I'm staying badass for good, this time! You're not gonna take away my fuckin' freedom!"

The walls closed up behind him, shrouding the dungeon in darkness once again.

* * *

Sam lifted his head hopefully upon Castiel's return "Any luck?"

"No," He sighed, slumping into his chair at the long table that occupied the library "Dean won't talk."

Sam rolled the neck of a whiskey bottle between his fingers and sighed "We'll… try again. We'll keep trying until we get him back."

"Of course."

Silence fell about them, unspoken doubts drifting aimlessly through the air. Castiel studied the rich, amber liquid trickling down the bottle as Sam poured himself a drink, a mixture of anger and pity storming in his chest.

"You want one?" The Winchester lifted his eyebrows in offering "'S good for the pain."

He shook his head once, avoiding the sharp scent of alcohol by getting to his feet above Sam's level "No, thank you. I think I'll go for a drive."

"Yeah, okay." Sam shrugged "Keep outta trouble, I guess."

"I will."

Castiel trudged up the staircase and out the door, welcomed by the crisp, cool evening air. He didn't care where the road took him, he just got into his car and went; if Sam still insisted on drinking himself silly, he didn't want to be there to see it.

* * *

They came back the next day, as promised. This time bearing gifts, would you believe?

"Here," Sam tossed a half-packet of crushed biscuits onto the desk "Knock yourself out."

He chuckled, crumbling a morsel between his fingers "Why, you really went all out, didn't ya? Don't I get family privileges?"

"I thought you said we weren't family." Castiel frowned.

"If it gets me some decent grub, I'll say anything!" He gave the angel a wink " _Do_ anything…"

"Alright, alright." Sam swiped the biscuits off the table "You don't want them? Fine! But you don't even _need_ to eat, so don't expect any roast dinners."

Dean feigned disbelief "Not even a cheese burger? What is this, a dictatorship?"

"Well, it's not a democracy."

"That's nice… that's _real_ nice, guys. Treating your own _brother_ , your _family_ like a fugitive."

Castiel snapped his head upwards, his eyes cold and dark "You are a _monster_!" He barked "But that's not going to stop us from caring."

"The real Dean's in there somewhere," Sam added "We're gonna find him eventually."

It was sweet how _certain_ they both were. So _optimistic_.

"Ever stopped to think that maybe you _don't_ have too long to figure this crap out?" He grinned wolfishly, straining against his cuffs "Crowley's out there looking for me, remember? And it's not gonna take long for him to work it all out…"

They exchanged glances; he could practically _hear_ the clogs turning inside their heads. It was freakin' hilarious how _lost_ they both were.

Castiel sighed "It's true. Crowley could turn up at any moment."

"Not if we take him someplace else," Sam crunched his brows together in thought "Bobby's panic room got destroyed with the house, but we could find him someplace similar…"

"Still here, guys!"

 _"Shut up, Dean!"_ They both bellowed at him.

"Charming."

Castiel frowned "If Bobby made a panic room by himself, I'm sure we could both figure it out together."

"Yeah, but he had a whole _weekend_ to do it, Cas. Crowley could pop up at any second!"

"I could stall him with a few sigils, but they would only last a couple of hours against someone as powerful as Crowley."

Sam shook his head "Nah, that's not enough time. We need a different plan."

"Wherever we go, Crowley will find us. It's a matter of figuring out how to protect ourselves from him when he does."

"Like how?"

His frown deepened "Crowley burnt off your tattoo… I think it would be best if you had it re-done."

"Yeah, okay. What about enochian markings? Isn't there like a _demon_ version or something?"

"I'm not too familiar with demon warding; it would be too risky."

Dean chuckled "He's gonna find you and _kill_ you. You know that, right?"

"Knock it off, Dean!" Sam growled "You may be my brother, but I _will_ hurt you if necessary."

"I'm quaking in my boots, Sammy."

"Stop! Both of you!" Castiel interjected, stepping between them with a huff "Sam, why don't you go see if you can find any suitable areas to hold Dean? Preferably somewhere isolated."

"But –"

"Do what the angel says, Sammy."

Castiel offered the younger Winchester a small smile of reassurance "Please, Sam."

His mouth twitched like he wanted to say more, but settled on a disgruntled nod of compliance "Yeah, yeah… sure. Just – Just don't let him get to you, alright?"

Castiel cleared his throat, turning his back on Sam to fix Dean with an icy glare "Of course not."

"Alright…" Sam gave Dean a long, hard stare before retreating from the dungeon and back to the main room, grumbling under his breath as he did so.

Dean quirked an eyebrow at the angel, a smug smirk pulling at his lips "If you wanted to be alone, you could've just _asked_ , ya know?"

"Stop this," Castiel grumbled "It won't work."

"What won't work?"

"Leading me into a false sense of security."

He scoffed, tipping his head to one side and observing Castiel quietly. It really was fucking _weird_ how this dude had somehow clawed his way into Dean's demon-ridden mind and messed him up. Sure, they were kinda close back in the good ol' days, but now that he was saddled with the black eyes again, he was surprised a freakin' angel of the lord was so obsessed with helping him. Not that he _wanted_ to be helped, of course; wandering the world for eternity, aimlessly killing whoever pisses him off sure sounded like the life to him!

But what had happened back in that alleyway? That was some crazy shit, most definitely. Castiel had went all _mushy_ on him and his heart had begun to race, a cold sweat filming his skin and uncontrollable shudders surging through his body. Then, apparently, he'd collapsed like a pansy and ended up here.

"We're going to find you somewhere," Castiel broke the silence "You'll be safe."

"From _Crowley_?" He snorted "He wouldn't touch me… don't worry."

"I can't help it; you make me worry all the time."

"It's one of my more _redeeming_ qualities, dontcha think?"

Castiel lifted his eyes like a sad, little puppy that'd just pissed on the carpet "I don't like it," He spoke quietly "Worry is such a human characteristic. I don't know how you cope with the likes of it…"

He shrugged one shoulder casually "Don't have to anymore, do I? Being a demon certainly has it perks."

"Despite what you think, demons _can_ feel, Dean." A new emotion flashed in Castiel's eyes "Just like angels. I wasn't meant to harbour emotions; I was created to fight and serve my father. But then _you_ came along…"

Dean tensed in his seat, that familiar woozy feeling starting to creep up on him again.

"I raised you from perdition and… well, you had the brightest, _purest_ soul I'd ever laid eyes on." Castiel continued, a wetness to his voice "I wasn't supposed to get too close. It was my duty to _follow_ my brothers. But… but you were so strong and noble and _righteous._ I couldn't understand why Uriel disliked you –"

" _Stop_ …"

"– or why my brothers and sisters would want to bring you harm. I just wanted to keep you safe – to hear you laugh, to stop the pain…"

" _Shut up_!"

Castiel paused, his sad expression masked by confusion once again "What's wrong?"

"You!" Dean hissed "Talking all like we're… we're…"

"We're…?"

"Well, _you know_!" He shuddered "It's making me feel sick."

The angel lowered his eyes, humming softly and nodding his head "I see… I'm glad we were able to clear that up."

"What the fuck you talkin' about?"

Castiel straightened with an exasperated sigh "It's nothing. I guess I'll leave you be…"

"Ah… _aah_ …" He snapped his fingers; it suddenly all made sense! "Did we have a gay thing?"

"Excuse me?" Castiel scarcely breathed, back turned and shoulders hunched as if Dean had just given him a blow to the spine.

He chuckled "Oh, we _did_! That's… well, that's just precious."

Castiel cast him a backwards glance and cleared his throat – his fingers flexing, clenching, flexing, clenching "Just don't."

"What did I do? Give you a kiss? A blowie?"

"No!" He growled "Nothing happened between us! Even if you wanted it to…"

Dean scoffed "Yeah, right. Outta all the hot chicks in the frickin' universe and I chain myself to a personality-less _dude_?" Ha, _please_ … This was fuckin _gold_! "I can't see that happening."

"Do you even remember that night?" Castiel queried with fury flaming in his eyes.

Honestly? No… He couldn't remember a damn thing. All those months adjusting to demon-life again – the _thrill_ of blood on your hands and beer in your belly – and it's like his memory had been wiped clean. Last thing he could remember was talking to Castiel in the dark; he'd been beaten up pretty bad, that much he could recall. Crowley was there, too. I mean, they must have talked about _something._ But what that conversation had actually _included_? Fuck if he knew!

"Nah, can't say I do."

The angel wet his lips (not that Dean was following his tongue, or anything) and sighed "I'll just let you remember by yourself. Maybe then you'll understand…"

He turned to leave – trenchcoat flapping behind him – but stopped at Dean's insistent cough. His blue eyes were so large and fuckin' _hopeful_ when he turned around, it almost made Dean feel bad that he couldn't feel a thing. Well, _almost_ … not quite.

"Yes, Dean?"

He cleared his head with a shake, flashing the angel a dazzling smile and flirtatious wink "That doesn't mean we can't have a little fun together, though. Amiright?"

Castiel flushed " _Goodnight_ Dean."

Oh, this was gonna be _way_ too much fun.

"It's like fuckin' _twelve_ , dude!"

 _And…_ darkness.

* * *

 **Faves and follows are very much appreciated! Please, please, please leave some feedback; it means the world to me. As always, reviewers will get shout-outs in the next chapter :)**


	6. Feelings!

**_Thanks to guitardee and Cecile for reviewing the last chapter! You guys are the best! :)_**

 **Just a real quick one today; I'm usually not able to write on Fridays and the chances of me finishing a full chapter by tomorrow were slim, so I thought it would be best to upload a short chapter instead of making you wait until the weekend! Just some Deanmon development in this time. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Sam's gone."

Dean raised his brows at the sudden break of silence; the angel hadn't spoken a word since he'd trudged his way into the dungeon two hours ago and sat down in the corner. He'd rattled him with nonsense and constant flirting at first, but it hadn't done the trick – sonofabitch was hard as stone. And it just _wasn't_ fun when the only reaction you got was sad eyes and forlorn sighs.

"What?"

Castiel lifted his chin "Sam's gone to scour the area for a suitable hiding place."

"Huh," Dean scoffed "I'm surprised Crowley hasn't busted his ass and made an appearance yet."

"Perhaps he's not as loyal as you think."

He couldn't help but smirk at the way Castiel said that – all grumpy and muttered like he was jealous or something. His mouth went pouty and he crossed his arms like a kid who couldn't get his way; damn, Dean could picture himself doing bad, bad things to the angel when he wore that expression.

Now, the _old_ him perhaps couldn't appreciate the fine ass that was Jimmy Novak, but things were different when ya had a case of the black eyes. Being a demon gave him an I-don't-give-a-shit attitude which just _wiped away_ the panic and denial he was in for liking the D besides the V. If he wanted to check out a hot dude's jean-clad thighs in a dusty bar, well – subtlety be damned – he's gonna lean out of his chair and get a good eyeful! Same goes for giving Castiel the sex eyes; he had to admit, it was quite exhilarating flirting with an angel of the lord, being what he now was. It was like burnin' the bible and shovin' the cross up ya ass – _backwards_.

"Don't get your trenchcoat in a twist," He rolled his eyes "You're still my number one, baby."

Castiel got up to leave, pouty face now contorted into something of pure disgust.

And shit – _shit, shit, shit, shit_ – Dean didn't _want_ him to leave. He wanted the angel to sit back down in the corner and endure _every single_ crude joke, flirtatious wink and pointless chatter. Not because he was like, ya know… _gay_ for him besides wanting to strip him down, turn him over and – well, yeah, you get the picture. Nah, Dean Winchester – _especially_ Dean Winchester gone demon – was not the sentimental type. With chicks, it was kinda necessary to hold hands and snuggle under the covers to ensure a second round of the good stuff, but not with dudes. And if Dean wasn't _obligated_ to play the sappy love interest, then why the fuck would he _choose_ to?

Cas – _Castiel_ – was just an angel who Dean was _more_ than certain had the hots for him, too. The whole "I need you" crap back in Purgatory had simply been code for "I need you in my bed right this goddamn second", of course. But, c'mon! He was a frickin' _demon_ now; he didn't need to walk on eggshells around the guy to avoid _hurting his feelings_ like a precious princess. If he wanted a quickie when Sam wasn't looking, then all he had to do was ask upfront! The fact that Castiel had been oblivious to all of his advances kinda contradicted the idea that the angel was just in it for the physical aspect of things, but it's not like that made a difference. If the nerdy little dude was expecting long walks down the beach and slow, passionate make-out sessions which included _zero_ fondling, then he was gonna get a nasty shock, for sure.

No, no, no. The only reason Dean didn't want Castiel leaving him in the dungeon was the same reason he put up with Crowley instead of going it alone; he _hated_ the isolation. Even with his newfound detestation for human kind ( _and_ those occupying human vessels), Dean couldn't stand the fuckin' _boredom_ and _pointlessness_ of just being around with no one else to talk to. Like, it's always better to have a drinking buddy, right? Someone to hold your hair and slip you a sneaky sawbuck when you're runnin' low? That's all Castiel was to him – a substitute Crowley (who, in himself, was basically a substitute Cas for the _old_ Dean, but let's not get confused here); he was the guy who for _some_ reason actually _enjoyed_ Dean's company and thus was the perfect person to use to his advantage. If Dean wanted to sing AC/DC at the top of his lungs, it wouldn't be so weird if Castiel was in the room. If he got _so_ bored that the latter was not enough to _satisfy_ his boredom, he could just run his mouth off to Castiel til' the cows came home! Just some good ol' fashion using – no biggy! And if he managed to snag himself an hour or so _alone_ with the angel, then he sure wasn't gonna complain.

So, that's why he found himself saying "Wait!" And then, in the sickliest, sweetest tone he could manage (cos if he was gonna get _anything_ outta this, he had to play nice) he added "Please don't go, yet. I, uh… I don't wanna be alone."

And god frickin' _damn_ it, the guy fell for it; he was like putty in his hands! His face went all soft and so _nauseatingly_ happy and he said "Okay, Dean." And then with a small smile "I'll stay."

Oh, sweet victory! This was gonna be _easy_ ; he was gonna have the angel wrapped around his little finger and – oh, wait. That… that _wasn't_ the satisfaction of getting his own way swirling around in his stomach. That was… it was… No, it couldn't be… Demons can't – they don't – _fuck_!

Those were _feelings_! Fuckin' sticky, sloppy, let's-all-hold-hands-and-pray-to-the-moon goddamn _feelings_! That wasn't part of the deal! He wasn't supposed to get a strange knot of _something_ in his gut when Castiel smiled like that and said his name with so much frickin' _tenderness_ in his voice! He was supposed to laugh and roll his eyes and get the urge to _punch_ the guy in the face for thinking he had the right to even _talk_ to him, let alone be _nice_ to him! No, this was wrong; this shouldn't have happened. It was –

"Actually," He swallowed thickly, turning his head away from the first person to wring a bead of humanity out of him in _months_ "You should… you should go. I don't – I'm sick of you now!" He tried to chuckle, but it sounded hoarse and scratchy "I've seen enough of your goddamn face for the day, so… just get out, will ya?"

Castiel stalled, his smile slowly drooping from his lips like the remnants of a good memory gone sour. He looked so fuckin' _disappointed._ Not angry, not confused – _disappointed._ Like the idea of spending the day cooped up in this dungeon with Dean was the best thing since angel food cake and it had just been _snatched_ right out of his hands. There was more sorrow and grief and loss behind those blue eyes than Dean could even hope to feel in this state.

So when the angel licked his lips, dropped his gaze and gave a small, quick nod of his head before fleeing the room without a single word, Dean found himself wondering if the demon gig was maybe a little overrated.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed seeing a bit of the old Dean return... Reviewers will get shout-outs in the next chapter, but all faves and follows are also very much appreciated. Bye for now!**


End file.
